Boys Don't Cry
by TheHuntersMoon
Summary: Sometimes Teddy struggles with the fact his parents aren't there with him.


Title: Boys Don't Cry  
Fandom: Harry Potter  
Rating: G  
Length: 656  
Characters/Pairings: Teddy Lupin  
Warnings/Spoilers: nope nothing!  
Challenge: 121: Sleepless (fan_flashworks livejournal)  
Authors Notes: So it's been many months? Maybe? I don't know and I've had god awful writers block but I've been watching so many Marauder era videos on YouTube and looking at stuff on Tumblr and we it! This will be about Teddy (he's what about 16 in this) however because anything to do with Remus is precious! Plus he sounds cute as fuck! So here you go!  
Summary: Sometimes Teddy struggles with the fact his parents aren't there with him.  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the idea! Everything else belongs to the incredible J.K Rowling!

* * *

He tries to be quiet as he slips out of his bed in the early hours of the morning. He tries not to dwell on past happenings and the fact his parents aren't even so much as a cherished memory but ghostly shadows that hide in the depths of his mind, waiting for him to close his eyes at night. He tries not to create scenes for himself. He tries not to picture them in that state, scarred and bloody, their eyes empty of life, love and joy. He tries to picture them as he'd seen them in a small photo album his parents had made in the months before his birth.

It was covered with tatty brown leather, well handled and cracking. The pages yellowing with age, but the moving photos never got old. Never to him... Because his parents look new and alive like they should be right now. He'd pull open the curtains, before opening his window. He'd pull on his favourite jumper his grandmother had given him: it was one of his fathers. Patched up slightly, with a rather awful pattern over the torso, leaving the rather long sleeves plain and it hung baggy even at his age, before he'd sit on the sill using the light from the street lamps or the moon in the sky to watch them as the photos replayed themselves to him.

He tries not to lose control. He tries not to get angry as his Godfather apologises for getting to know them better than he. He tries not to cry, because boys don't cry. He tries to make Harry proud, but sometimes he can't help himself. He tries not to make Harry disappointed, but sometimes he can't help himself, it just seems to happen.

He seems more preoccupied, but he never means to be, he's honest when he tells Harry he's just not like them. He's honest when he tells Harry he can't sleep at night, their faces clouding and clogging his mind. He's honest when he tells Harry it makes him feel sick.

He tries to tell Harry that he's nothing like them. He tries to swallow the lump in his throat when the words tumble from his lips. He tries not to lie to himself, but sometimes that's the easiest way out. He tries not to blame them. He tries to believe Harry's words, that they died heroes trying to make the world the place it is today, but he can't help but feel lonely and lost. He tries to believe Harry, when the man tells him he's so like his mother and father. He tries to accept how Ginny sees him; so remarkably like Tonks but with Remus' kind eyes and smile.

He just doesn't feel like them, no matter how hard he tries to see what everybody else sees.

He tries to smile the first time he casts the Patronus Charm at Hogwarts. He tries not to cry at the glowing slivery wisps as they morphed into a wolf. He tries to hold it there, swallowing his pride as he let a tear slip from his eye, his hair colour changing rapidly from its usual rather extravagant blue to a darker shade. He tries to remember what Harry had told him. That his parents have never truly left him. That they are always there, watching over him and he believed Harry now.

His father was there to protect him and to keep him safe and so was his mother.

Yet still his nights were sleepless. He tries not to jump when his grandmother comes towards his bedroom in the early hours of the morning, complaining about the light coming from under the bedroom door. He tries not to break his concentration. He tries not to lose the form standing before him, just wanting to feel safe.

He tries not to cry when his grandmother steps over the threshold, because boys don't cry.


End file.
